


Six Knitting Needles

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Body Modification, Bottom Sam, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Piercings, Sounding, Top Castiel, bizarre insertion, staples kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, things didn’t really progress straight from hanging out at the local knitting club to Sam being tied to a chair and sounded with knitting needles. He might be a little worried if they had. No, things were a lot more normal at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Knitting Needles

-

The first went in with no problem at all.

A metallic green size 6 knitting needle, shiny with lube and held carefully in slender tan fingers. There was no resistance as it was slid into Sam’s cock up to the band that Castiel had marked about halfway up the needle’s length, which was precisely as far as it could go inside his erect cock without sinking in past the base.

Sam whimpered. Cas was going slow on purpose. He was being a tease. Shifting on the hard wooden chair, Sam rolled his wrists that were tied behind him in a soft thin yarn. Cas had taken an inordinate amount of time to lace the yarn up and down his arms before pulling them back and tying them at a single point. Really, it was more a decoration. And a game. Sam could snap that piece of yarn any time he wanted to.

But he really, really didn’t want to.

Cas smiled up at him from a crouched position between Sam’s spread thighs. He was wearing those thin black rimmed glasses. And still had his starched white button up shirt on, only, at least the sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. The sexy librarian look worked way too well on him.

Running a finger up the length of the shaft, making sure to scrape a blunt nail against the ridges where his four Jacob ladder barbells raised the skin, Castiel twisted the head of the knitting needle before rising gracefully and turning around to the table to pluck another up from the pile.

-

Maybe this is a strange place to start. See, although this was now a typical Friday night for Sam, they had met under much more normal circumstances. And it actually did start with knitting.

-

The first place that Sam met Cas was at the library.

Sam had a system every time he was moved to a new town for his job. His position in the FBI wasn’t really all danger and glamour, there was a lot of leg work involved in pretty much everything and the payoffs were few and far between. But he liked his job and he liked getting to move around the country. It was what he was used to, and although as a kid constantly moving for his father’s job Sam had thought he wanted nothing more than to settle down, he found that once he had been in the same place four years for college he was itching to stretch his legs.

It worked, picking up and moving every so often. Dean criss crossed the country too, although he pretty much traveled wherever he wanted and found work along the way, instead of traveling for his work like Sam. They crossed paths every now and then. It was good.

The first thing Sam always did in a new town was find a good organic grocers and hopefully a farmer’s market. Food was important. Portland had no short supply of either of those. After familiarizing himself with his neighborhood and mapping out all the basic necessities, Sam liked to pick up hobbies to keep busy and get to know his new town.

Libraries were a great place to look. He could never leave a library empty handed. Books were good enough company if there was nothing interesting on the community boards that every library always had. But Sam lucked out. Not only was there a library a ten minute walking distance from his apartment, they had a knitting circle that met every Tuesday night.

Knitting was a practical hobby. It was useful to keep the hands busy while letting his mind wander and process. Plus, you had something to show for it when you finished a project. Only, Sam didn’t need all the knitted goods that he was capable of making in his free time. He was glad to find in the first meeting that the library knitting circle found projects to put their work to good use. Making bonnets and booties for new borns, scarves and mitts for the homeless.

The group consisted of mostly middle aged to older women. Actually, they were all women when Sam arrived punctually ten minutes early with his knitting supply bag. They were all eager to greet him and make sure he tried one of the home made muffins and ask him all about himself. Sam noticed the gossiping between women who weren’t in his immediate vicinity and thought he couldn’t hear, but really, he was used to it.

He hadn’t realized that they were eagerly whispering about the only other guy in the knitting group, one Castiel Novak who showed up precisely on time in a sweater vest and button down to settle at the far end of the large conference table with a curious squint given to Sam as the only acknowledgement of his presence. The women had apparently assumed - and sadly they were correct - that the two males now in the knitting group must be homosexual and therefore the women should act as match makers for them.

Of course, in the end, Sam and Castiel did find each other compatible and interested. Only, it didn’t go quite like the others had planned.

-

Three size 6 needles later - they were only 4 millimeters, Sam was certain that he could take six of them, maybe even seven - and Cas paused as he grabbed a fourth needle, tapping it against his lip as he regarded Sam. Under Castiel’s intense stare he couldn’t help but squirm a little. He was trying to be good and stay still. But Cas got this contemplative look that could only mean trouble. Sam fucking loved this look. Cas would purse his lips a little, draw them thin as he pressed them together, forehead wrinkling as he squinted, head tilting to the side just a bit.

Extending a knitting needle to catch Sam under the chin, Cas tipped his head up. “Be still.”

Sam’s first instinct was to nod. But right. Still. He could be still.

The cool metal tip of the knitting needle, although pointed, was not very sharp. With enough pressure, it could still hurt like a bitch. Cas just trailed it lightly down his chest and stomach straight to his cock, tapping at the three needles already in there. There was a vague stretch from the foreign objects in there, but Sam had gauged his cock so wide that the width of the three of them together didn’t really hurt, it was stimulating but it wasn’t enough. However, it wasn’t the combined width of them that was so wicked, he found. It was how they shifted around each other, one going deeper while another started to withdraw, conflicting sensations rubbing and sliding and God but Sam could not hold back the pathetic little whimpers.

Castiel smiled at him. Traced the needle up his quivering stomach in whorling patterns. Sam could feel his cock jolting, needles pushing out as his cock jumped from one thigh to another. Cas leaned forward to take him in hand, pinching the needles together and inserting them all together to the base again as he continued to scratch up Sam’s chest with another needle. He tapped the hard metal against the double pierced barbell’s in Sam’s nipples, clacking them together noisily and making Sam jump as he tensed head to toe.

Castiel smiled wider. Squatting in front of Sam to keep a hold on his cock and keep the needles from shifting out, Cas continued to torment him with the needle as it was dragged lightly over taut muscles already slick with a sheen of sweat, before pressing the hard pointed tip into the most sensitive spots. Sam bit back a scream as Cas pressed the needle firmly, insistently, against a pressure point on his shoulder.

“Still. Take a deep breath.”

Blinking away tears that welled suddenly at the bright bloom of pain, Sam tried to pull himself back in to center as he took a few deep breaths. He focused on the feel of his muscles relaxing and tensing, how they reacted to the drag of the needle, the feel of his blood pulsing hard enough to ache in his cock, the feel of everything sinking under his skin drawing in to the core coiling tight.

Slumping, Sam tipped his head back and bit his lip as Castiel prodded at pressure points down his torso before sliding the needle into his cock. That was a good stretch, four, hard and unyielding pressed against the sensitive interior of his urethra.

Standing, Castiel picked up more of the soft pink yarn from the table and began looping it around the middle of Sam’s cock, anchored around one of the barbells before pulling his cock up against his belly and unspooling just enough yarn to tie off on the D-ring at the front of his collar.

“You’ll push those out if you keep wagging that around.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. You’re doing so good.”

-

Of course, things didn’t really progress straight from hanging out at the local knitting club to Sam being tied to a chair and sounded with knitting needles. He might be a little worried if they had. No, things were a lot more normal at first.

-

The second place that Sam met Cas was at the animal shelter.

If his work load wasn’t too heavy and he had the free time for it, Sam usually picked up volunteer work as well. One regret about his nomadic lifestyle was that he couldn’t have pets, which was pretty sad. Volunteering at local shelters to walk dogs, that was a perfect solution in Sam’s eyes.

He was lucky to find a shelter that was only a fifteen minute bus ride from his apartment. Some places required more intensive training, but a few hours orientation and ten bucks for a shelter t-shirt that the volunteers had to wear was all that they asked before they allowed Sam free range to all the ‘green’ - good temperament - marked dogs.

Spending his Saturday mornings walking, playing, rolling around with shelter pups was the best way to start any weekend according to Sam. There was a fenced in field behind the shelter that was bustling with activity on the weekends. The third week that he was there, a little earlier than usual because he had a long list of errands to run that Saturday, Sam saw a familiar face walking slowly behind a geriatric old labrador.

In jeans and the yellow shelter designated tee, Castiel looked a lot different. Firstly, Sam noticed the colorful full sleeve tattoos that went down to his wrists. Secondly, Sam noticed the smile on his relaxed face that was usually seen scowling behind a pair of knitting needles. Thirdly, Sam definitely caught the blush on Castiel’s cheeks when he trotted over.

It turned out that Castiel was a Portland native and had been volunteering at the shelter for almost a decade. Sam made sure to show up early every Saturday to catch him. They walked together if their dogs were friendly. Chatted. Actually, small talk, oh I know a great Farmer’s Market, flirting conversation. Cas was a lot more relaxed in this environment, Sam found, and easy to talk to about personal things.

It was such a big city, that to run into Cas at the library and now here had Sam wondering if Cas lived in the same neighborhood - or nearby enough. Sam wondered what grocery stores he went to, where he worked, what he did to unwind. If he had any regular bars, restaurants, coffee shops. Of course, this line of thought was starting to verge on pre-stalker territory, so Sam tried to quash it immediately. He should just ask Castiel out. They had a lot in common.

Somehow, Sam found it difficult to propose a romantic date when he was carrying a bag of dog shit though.

-

Giving a twang to the yarn that ran from Sam’s collar to his cock, Cas nodded approvingly before cupping Sam’s face and kissing him on the forehead, then the nose, then the lips when he tipped his head up expectantly. Although Sam chased him with a tongue, Cas withdrew and patted his cheek. Picking up another knitting needle from the table, he slicked it with lube and knelt in front of Sam.

Five. They were on five.

Circling a hand loosely around his cock, Castiel placed his thumb and forefinger at the top of head and tugged gently to open it wider. The split back of the glans, running from the urethral opening just down the frenulum to the raphe, pulled apart wide around the metal knitting needles.

Tapping the fifth into place slowly, holding the others so they didn’t sink too deep, Castiel shifted them all down alongside each other. The flared button heads on the kitting needles clacked together. They couldn’t all fit together quite side by side, but they stretched his cock wide as they angled against each other. Closing his hand around the group of them, Cas slowly and gently fucked them into Sam’s urethra.

He couldn’t keep still. There was no way physically possible. Curling his toes against cold linoleum, flicking his wrists as he clenched his hands, Sam groaned and rocked his hips up. The utterly slow strung out pace of the scene was driving him mad. Winding him tighter and tighter and Sam felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin, fever hot and tingling head to toe, he felt he could just split a seam along his spine and burst out like a swarm of birds.

Cas stopped fucking him with the needles and grasped the shaft of his cock in one hand and his balls in the other. Squeezed tight with both. With rhythmic counter squeezes, he rolled and slid his hands without actually jacking Sam off, but every time he pushed the barbells of the Jacob’s ladder inward, the hard grate of them through flesh against the knitting needles that dragged, pressed and dragged, it was indescribable.

Castiel released him. Stood and reached for the sixth knitting needle.

-

They never did go on that first, rom-com scripted date like Sam had planned in his head. He was kind of a chicken shit when it came to asking guys out. Sam had perfectly good reasons for this though.

-

The third place that Sam met Cas was in a public dungeon.

Sure coffee dates and movie nights were all well and good, but Sam typically didn’t try to meet guys by doing that anymore. When he got his first piercings, the double nipple barbells, he could pass it off as mildly kinky. When he got four barbells for a Jacob’s ladder, some guys gave him weird looks and most said they wouldn’t bottom to that - which honestly wasn’t a problem at all for Sam. The lines of three microdermals along the cut of his hips got a lot of questions - although two of the microdermals were ripped out in a rope suspension accident and were currently just scarred, but Sam still liked keeping the others in.

But the meatotomy? After getting the split on the underside of his cock just along the frenulum, the last casual hook up that Sam had tried did not go very well when they saw that.

Maybe there was something wrong with him. Sam really didn’t care anymore. He liked the modification aesthetically, but had originally decided on getting it for the purpose of sounding. It was like a personal challenge. Obsession might be a better term. He had spent a long time gauging his urethra with Hegel sounds but at the 8 mm point he found that he couldn’t go higher. Even the 8 mm was painful, often resulting in bleeding, and it felt like there was a resistance at the head of his cock. Getting the sound past the head was always the hardest part, but it seemed like it just couldn’t stretch any wider.

Sam discovered that this was a common problem. The urethra was usually tight behind the glans and a partial subincision - a meatotomy when it was just the section of the frenulum - could open the urethra to extreme gauging possibilities.

Sam had to do it. And he loved it.

But, he tended to stick to the fet scene anymore when it came to finding guys, for dating or sex. Body modifications were met with a lot more acceptance in those sorts of spaces.

It wasn’t hard at all to get offers - and frankly more attention than he was comfortable with sometimes - at places like this. In tight blue jeans and a leather chest harness, Sam wandered the floor level of the club where there was a dance floor, a lounge room, a public dungeon play space. It was a nice club, clean, with DM’s stationed in every public space and clear concise rules posted on the walls. Sam figured he might come back here a few times depending on how long he was in Portland.

Sam found himself lingering in the dungeon area, padded floor comfortable for knees, cleaning supplies readily available for sharing equipment, sturdy benches and racks spaced wide apart. There were tape markers on the floor to remind watchers to keep distance. Everyone seemed to be congregating around a scene on the far left of the dungeon. Sam had the advantage of height to see over the head’s of the crowd, who stood in quiet observation.

Stretched on her stomach on a padded table, head resting on folded arms, a girl lay still as a man worked on what looked like an arts and crafts project on her back. Tiered rows of three different colored ribbons were woven in a corset pattern and stapled down the length of her back. It was intricate, and beautiful. Sam pressed a little closer and stood up to his full height. The man working on her had his back to Sam, and it was a gorgeous expanse of bare skin tattooed with a feathered wing pattern.

He worked swiftly, deftly criss crossing ribbon and stapling them neatly to her back. It looked like a medical staple gun. Supplies were neatly kept on a stainless steel tray. The end result was breathtaking. Sam could barely see a sliver of skin under all the ribbons when he was finished. The guy seemed a little taken aback when he finally turned around and looked up, noticing the crowd that had gathered around him.

Sam recognized that face.

Feeling a bit like a rabbit in head lights, he froze momentarily contemplating melting into a puddle or just turning and fleeing, when Cas noticed him. It was kind of hard not to notice Sam a lot of the time. He was ready to shuffle away and try to get lost in the dispersing crowd, but then Cas smiled.

A bit tentatively - but Sam had to admit curiosity and admiration for Castiel’s work - he nudged his way forward. The girl on the table stood, chest bare, little black shorts the only thing she wore except the ribbons across her back. She was smiling widely, long brown hair swept up in a messy bun, talking animatedly with Cas before wandering off into the crowd with her back still stapled up.

“Hello Sam.”

Yep, no turning back now. Despite the people still lingering looking like they wanted to talk to Cas, or have him work on them, Cas said hi to Sam.

“Hey. Cas. Uh. Do you come here a lot?”

He really felt like smacking himself in the face.

“I’m a regular. Is this your first time?”

“God no. Oh. Wait I mean. It’s my first time here, at this place.”

Cas was smiling a little, just in the corners of his mouth. Sam was trying very hard not to stare at his toned chest. He was completely covered in ink from his waist to his neck to his wrists. Sam just wanted to trace all the patterns with his tongue. Black jeans snugged low on his hip, and Sam was mentally squirming.

“That’s what I had meant.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.”

Okay, maybe Sam was physically squirming a little too.

“Have you ever been stapled Sam?”

“No.”

It had never really crossed his mind, he’d seen one stapling scene before but it was no where near as artistic and appealing as Castiel made it look.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, are you more into bondage or masochism?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

There was no mistaking Castiel’s smile as it split wider across his face, teeth flashing white and the look was absolutely predatory. Sam really hoped his quickly growing erection was not too obvious. Or, was at least appreciated.

“What sort of play do you usually like?”

“Uh, impact play and flogging are some of my favorites. But, I love trying new things.”

“Turn around. May I put my hands on you?”

Swallowing thickly, Sam nodded and remembered that he needed to verbally consent, mumbling out a ‘yes’ as he turned around and hunched a little. He felt Castiel’s fingers run along the straps of his harness, lightly trace down his spine, spread over his ribs and rub soothingly.

“You have a lovely back. I’d enjoy working on it.”

“I’d like that. I’d really, really like that.”

Sam shivered when Castiel tugged at the buckles of his harness to pull it off. Setting it aside, he wiped down the table with antiseptic and dried it with paper towels while talking through what he was going to do and how it was going to feel. Sam nodded and tried to process all the information. Pain was, well under the right circumstances he could honestly enjoy very high levels of pain, although it was usually the dynamics and the mental landscape of play that he enjoyed the most. He’d never been stapled. But he really, really wanted Castiel’s hands on him.

Guided down face first to the table, Castiel pulled his arms up so that his elbows jutted up and his palms were flat on the table by his waist. It pushed his shoulder blades out and gave a contour to his back. Sam had no idea why.

“You can tell me to stop or pause at any time. Just use the stop light system.”

“Yeah. Green. Definitely green.”

Castiel’s warm hands on his skin made him prickle with goose flesh, glad he was face down on the table because he was hard in his jeans. Nimble fingers ghosted over his skin making patterns until he found himself relaxing, breathing deep and starting to space. Castiel talked him through everything, but the first sharp puncture of a staple into his skin still made him twitch. He could be good though, he could stay still. It hurt a whole lot less than he expected. Little pin pricks in quick succession, the clack clack of the plastic staple gun an easy rhythm to follow as Castiel worked.

The true genius of what Cas did, well Sam didn’t find that out until Cas was done and helped him sit and then stand from the table with the ribbons still stapled in his back. The ribbons were pulled tight across the arching dip of his spine from how his arms had been held up. Sam found if he tried to put his arms down or relax them he pulled at the staples, and the tugging pressure against his skin is what hurt like a bitch.

It was amazing.

Sam tried to pay attention to conversation. Cas kept him close and introduced him to a few people, including his other sub Meg who laughed quite happily at the position Sam awkwardly held his arms in. Cas told him that the staples could be removed at any time that he wanted. It was totally a game. And Sam was very, very stubborn. After he let his arms drop a little too much when the strain in his muscles started to cramp, he felt a few of the staples pop out. Castiel assured him that they wouldn’t do any damage when they popped out like that, it happened all the time. Nothing to worry about, he could keep the rest of the staples in as long as he like.

Sam held out. He watched Cas use a little metal tool to neatly remove the staples from Meg’s back. They were, as he thought, medical staples. Sterilized single use guns in sealed packets that apparently could be bought over the internet. They crimped underneath the skin, turning inward. The tool that he had plucked them out without fuss.

Now, when Sam finally admitted that he needed the staples taken out, Castiel smiled at him and set him down and plucked at a ribbon crossing his shoulders before grasping it firmly and pulling. It ripped out of his skin with taut pop of pain and Sam felt dizzy on the suddenness of it. He could hear the little tool Castiel had plucking a few other staples neat and pain free from his back then. And then Castiel grabbed a section of ribbon and pulled again. Several ripped out at once.

Sam nearly came in his jeans.

-

“Breathe. Steady.”

Sam panted and struggled to even out his breathing as Castiel pushed the sixth knitting needle into his cock alongside the rest. He focused on the feeling of his rib cage expanding as he struggled to not struggle against the flimsy yarn tied around his wrists. Looking down the length of his body, stomach trembling, he watched the bright green gleam of the knitting needle sinking deep with a gentle firm push from Cas.

The split head of his cock was stretched wide around the bundle of needles that clacked as Cas twisted one then another, taking a single needle in between his fingers to slide up and down then several at a time. Tapered ends scraped the inside of his urethra, cock blood engorged more than hard, flush red and straining.

It was weird, and it was so so good. Cas always had the strangest ideas. Sam, he didn’t really think anything about knitting was sexy - although he would never look at a knitting needle the same way after this. The sole reason, he knew, that Cas wanted to do this was just because he had never done this before. Several weeks ago, Sam had bought a bulk package of the needle size that Cas used the most because he was always losing his needles, and Cas, he just looked at the package and looked at Sam and mumbled ‘I wonder how many of these I could fit in your cock’.

The answer was six.

Sam was sticking to the wood chair with sweat, squirming and begging, ready to come as soon as Cas would take the damn needles out. But Cas, he just knelt in front of Sam and leaned closer to lick around the head of his cock pushing his tongue against the wide aching stretch of his urethra, trailing his hot mouth down along the shaft making sure to flick against every barbell on his way down. Nosing at the base and mouthing at his balls, Cas stroked his stuffed cock and wrapped his lips around a sac sucking it into his mouth and rubbing his tongue in little circles. Sam felt his seams popping, blood molten and white hot heat in his core pooling at the base of his cock straining for release.

Grasping the grouping of needles in one hand, Castiel slowly, torturously slowly, slid them up and out of his cock while sucking on his balls and Sam came screaming. Eyes squeezed shut, his whole body locked tight with tension as he bucked his hips up, Sam split open and flew wide and it took him a moment to come back down to himself.

Castiel stood and tsked.

“You broke the yarn.”

Blinking, throat hoarse and chest heaving, Sam tried to ask ‘what’ but he couldn’t really talk.

Oh. His hands were loose. Holding up his weakened arms, pink yarn still wrapped down the length of them, the ties at his wrists were snapped.

He was still staring dumbly at the dangling yard - he missed Cas opening his pants completely - when he was yanked onto his knees on the kitchen floor and it was more than easy for Cas to push in to his slack jawed mouth. Utterly boneless and spent, Cas held him up with hands cradling the back of his head and did all the work. Cas was good like that. All Sam had to do was push down his gag reflex and swallow, enjoy the stretch of his mouth around Cas, the heft and warmth of his cock, the slide of it easy into his already wrecked throat.

Sam hummed contentedly and swallowed everything Cas had to offer, licking more actively when Cas stilled and held him gently, laving at his softening cock and blinking up at him.

“Six then. I’m sure we can get seven next time.”


End file.
